Читать книгу Doctor's Mile-High Fling - Tina Beckett - Страница 9

A SIREN sounded somewhere inside the plane, but Molly was too busy trying not to throw up to open her eyes and look around her.

They’d been bouncing around for what seemed like forever. How much more could the tiny aircraft take without coming apart at the seams?

Her fingers gripped her shoulder strap, the nausea from the turbulence almost overwhelming her. She breathed through her mouth, but didn’t try to talk, too afraid she’d distract Blake and cause him to make some kind of fatal error.

Like her sniping and complaining might have already done.

Why hadn’t she just sat back and pretended she was heading for the warm sands of the Caribbean with a handsome man? Because she was done pretending. Done going along with what others wanted her to be and do.

Maybe he’d report her.

To whom? The Brotherhood of Wronged Pilots?

Pilots probably had to deal with frightened passengers on a regular basis. Molly had just never dreamed she’d end up as a prime example of one.

He could report her to anyone he wanted, as long as he got them through this storm in one piece. And if he couldn’t…

She swallowed the bile that rose higher in her throat. Her mother would have one more loved one to bury. Just like she’d predicted in that last rant before Molly had left the house for good.

Scratch that. They’d never found the bodies of her father or the nurse he’d been travelling with.

If Molly and Blake crashed into the ocean, theirs probably wouldn’t be found either.

The siren cut off. Chancing a glance to the side, she noted the way Blake’s hands fought with the controls, and she hurriedly shifted her attention to his face. The sight there wasn’t any better. The muscles in his jaw stood out in stark relief to the rest of his features, his eyes narrowed in fierce concentration.

That had to be a bad sign. The man who worshipped Evel Knievel was worried.

Are we going to crash?

She kept the words to herself, but they repeated over and over inside her head.

The plane plummeted for several gut-wrenching seconds, before righting itself and climbing back to its previous position. Her stomach didn’t follow suit, though. It was still dangling somewhere beneath the aircraft.

A mass of multihued gray bands seemed to scrape along her window as the plane plowed through the middle of the clouds. She flinched at each new bump and shimmy, expecting to be sent tumbling headlong into the sea at any moment. The fact that they were even high enough to be swallowed by clouds surprised her. For some reason she’d thought they’d be cruising well below them. “Don’t worry. I’ve flown through worse.” The tight words swirled around the cabin as if they too were caught up in the boiling turbulence outside.

Her hand went to her stomach and pressed hard. He’d flown through worse? An alarm had sounded, for heaven’s sake. How much worse could it get?

A gust of wind shoved the plane to the right before releasing its grip. She couldn’t hold back the question any longer. “How much farther?”

“We’re about a half hour out. We can’t land until the weather clears a little.”

“Can’t we climb above the storm?”

Another blast of air kept Blake from answering her for a minute or so. “Cessnas can’t fly as high as commercial jets.”

“Oh.” Molly decided it was in her own best interests to let him concentrate on flying rather than having to field a constant stream of questions. Besides, there was always the not so off chance that her voice could transform into a high-pitched scream that would end up killing them both.

Better to maintain silence.

Between stutters and bumps, she studied him, finding that concentrating on something other than the conditions outside the plane helped keep the nausea and fear at bay. At least, partially.

Blake’s hands were strong, his long tanned fingers gripping the controls. He’d shoved the sleeves of his black sweater halfway up his forearms, exposing lean muscles that bunched and released as he worked to steady the aircraft. Her eyes followed his arm up, curving over substantial biceps before she reached his shoulder. Broad. Taking up his space and some of hers in the tiny cockpit.

Reliable. Competent.

She couldn’t see his eyes at the moment, but knew they were deep blue. She’d watched them go from warm and balmy to icy cold in a matter of seconds. Much like the weather outside had done.

Unfortunately, just as she was about to move her attention to that thick head of dark hair, he turned, catching her in mid-stare. “You okay?”

“Oh, uh…yeah.” She scrambled for an excuse. “Just seeing if the view from the side is as horrible as it is from the front.”

Ack! That hadn’t come out right. “I meant the view outside the plane. I wasn’t talking about you.”

Maybe trying to explain herself wasn’t the way to go.

She caught the flash of white teeth as he turned to face the weather again. “Well, that’s a relief.”

Forcing her attention back to the front windshield, she noted that the wind was calming a bit, along with her stomach.

Thank God. Maybe it was almost…

Suddenly, like a bullet exiting the barrel of a gun, they shot through the clouds and came out on the other side. The fierce turbulence vanished as quickly as it had started.

The contrast between dark and light was so startling, she was forced to squint as the sun peeked in at her and glinted off the nose of the plane. Once she regained her equilibrium, she sat up and drew a slow, careful breath, making sure she was still in one piece. Still alive.

She exhaled just as slowly. The second breath she took, however, was in reaction to the beauty surrounding her.

“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen skies so crisp and blue.”

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Blake’s voice had gone soft as well.

She glanced to the side and caught him looking at her. Her stomach tightened. Why had she ever thought his eyes were cold? Right now they were warm and alive, and looking at her like…

She shook herself. He was glad they’d broken through the clouds. Just like she was.

That shivery look he’d thrown her meant nothing more than that.

She leaned forward as several land masses came into view. Some of them stretched toward the sky like the volcanoes she knew them to be. “The Aleutians.”

“Yes.” The reverence behind the single word made her take a closer look below. Her father had loved the islands, despite the treacherous conditions she constantly heard about in the news reports. She’d never understood why someone would willingly live in a place where fog, wind and icy conditions were almost constant companions.

Until now.

One of the distant island peaks wore a thick covering of clouds like a top hat. It brought a smile to her face.

“My father loved it here.”

“I know.” Blake’s hands loosened on the wheel. “He told me.”

Molly’s mother had often complained he loved the islands more than his own family. Why else would he take a job most pilots chose to avoid? He could have had a nice cushy job as an airline pilot, and been better paid for his trouble. He’d turned a deaf ear to his wife’s protests and as the years had gone by, her clinginess and grumbling had taken a toll on their relationship. If he hadn’t been killed, Molly doubted their marriage would have survived another year.

It was one of the reasons she’d wanted to take the job, to try to see the islands through eyes that weren’t tainted by bitterness.

The turbulence of the last half hour had made her rethink that decision. But the second they exited that storm, well, she’d been blown away.

The experience had been breathtaking. Magical.

She’d never seen anything like it in her life.

The plane banked slightly, heading toward the islands. She listened as Blake called in their position and requested permission to land.

As they descended, she craned her neck but couldn’t see anything that looked like a landing strip. The mountains seemed to take up every inch of surface space. “Where’s the airport? Is it on the other side of the island?”

“Nope, we’re heading right for it.”

All she saw was a short road bisecting a narrow pinch of land. The pavement went nowhere, both ends dumping into the…

Ocean.

“You’re kidding me. That?” She wedged herself into her seat as Blake pushed the yoke farther in, increasing their rate of descent. Oh, Lord. “You’ve landed this before, right?”

“Many times. Relax.”

Easy for him to say. If they set down too early or too late, they’d be swimming instead of flying.

Or worse.

As the plane continued to descend, the turbulence picked up again. Molly tried to remain calm, but ended up back in her original takeoff position, both hands gripping her seat, fervently praying she’d live to see another day.

Down, down, down they went. Just when she was sure the wheels were going to trail through the whitecaps below, the landing strip reached for them, grabbing them to safety.

Or so she thought.

Nothing could have prepared her for the bone-jarring conditions of the asphalt as they hurtled down the strip and toward what looked like the end of the world.

Her fingers tightened with each yard they gained, the brakes of the plane throwing her against her shoulder harness. She pressed down with both feet, hoping the plane would intuitively figure out that she wanted it to S-T-O-P. Now!

What seemed to take forever was, in all probability, over in a matter of seconds. They slowed to taxi speed, with several yards of runway to spare. Okay, so it was more than that, but when you were landing on something the size of a small driveway, any extra room between you and disaster was a welcome sight.

“Are you all right over there?” Blake turned the controls, and they powered toward a building that stood at right angles to the landing strip.

“Yeah. Fine.” She hoped he didn’t notice the way her voice cracked from one word to the next.

“See? We made it all in one piece.” He squeezed her wrist and, as if he’d pressed a switch, her hands released their hold of the seat. “You did great, by the way. The first time is always the hardest. But, believe me, once you get used to it, you’ll find yourself wanting to do it every chance you get.”